


The perfect moment

by Alpi



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Jester therapy session, No explicit ship naming but some ambiguous shipping so it can be enjoyed by anyone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:53:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22164370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alpi/pseuds/Alpi
Summary: Jester carried bundled-up emotions with her ever since she left home, but as of late she found them to weigh heavily on her. And as time went on they grew heavier and harder to bear. More times than she would like to admit did she ran away to hide them from the rest of her friends. She knew it did her no good, but she also knew no better way to go about it. This couldn’t go on forever, but as long as she was able to Jester chose to suffer in silence...Until one day when she had detached herself once again from her friends. This time around, she was being followed by one outside her group. And to her horror, would she have to the one thing she feared most: confront her feelings head-on.
Relationships: Fjord/Jester Lavorre, Jester Lavorre/Beauregard Lionett, Jester Lavorre/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	The perfect moment

**Author's Note:**

> Ever since Jester nearly broke down after Caduceus enquired about her well-being I wondered what it would look like if Jester went to therapy, and I run with that idea. I cooked up this fic and seasoned it with some shipping near the end (I kept it vague so regardless to which tone your shipper-heart beats you can enjoy this).

“Do you mind if I sit?”

Like a bubble that suddenly popped Jester was ripped out of her trance-like state. Her hand darted to her ax while her head jerked upward. The person that had spoken was only a few feet away, partially cast in shadow by the waning sunlight. Jester’s first instinct was to jump to her feet and run, casting her guardians into existence behind her, but she was stopped in her tracks when the voice spoke once more.

“No need to be frightened. Do you not remember me?

The familiarity in his voice… Jester exhaled loudly. “Oh, it’s you.”

As if he had planned it the Stranger stepped out of the penumbra of the giant cherry tree, revealing his gaunt face and wizened features. The mop of greyish-brown hair and bushy beard covering his head almost entirely lent him a wild look that stood in stark contrast to the fine clothing he was wearing. 

His blue eyes looked on in anticipation from behind the giant glasses placed on his meager nose. Jester was about to enquire about the reason for his staring when his question came back to her. “Yes, of course, you can sit if you wish.” She worked a smile into her face. “Who am I to forbid it?”

The Stranger didn’t budge. “It appears as though you scurried away in search of solitude. I would be remiss not to ask if my presence poses an intrusion to your personal space.”

“Na. Everybody is welcomed and nobody gets excluded. That is my life motto.” Jester leaned closer, lowering her voice. “I’m going to make an exception, however, if you don’t start talking normally.”

“Normally?”

“Yes. Like me.” Jester puffed herself up and beamed.

Without another word the stranger hunkered down, leaving a space between them which would comfortably fit another person. 

“I don’t bite, you know,” Jester said.

“We are acquainted with each other for only a few hours. I feel more comfortable acting accordingly.”

Jester raised an eyebrow. Precisely six hours had gone by since they, as a group, had stumbled upon this stranger and Jester was already certain that he posed the most bizarre character they had met in their time together. In its introduction he had provided no name; “of no relevance” he had said. Jester had tried to name him after funny-sounding zemnian names like “Helmut” or “Friedhelm”, but it had provoked no reaction in the Stranger besides a toneless “if you wish”. From there on out, Jester knew there was no fun to be had with this individual.

Now, she simply called him “the Stranger” in her head because it sounded both intriguing and mysterious. Both applied to him.

Jester perked her head up and broke the silence which had briefly fallen between them. “Why did you follow me when you knew I wanted to be alone?” A contradiction that had only just come to her.

“Why did you run away?” he asked instead of answering.

Jester pulled back, aghast. “I did not r—”

“Running, then drawing. With the former, you have distanced yourself physically, while the latter was meant to distant yourself mentally.” He gave a pointed look at her notebook filled with cartoonish doodles. “I could make an educated guess on the reason why, but I would prefer you to tell me what had prompted such behavior.”

Anger, boiling and churning under her skin like a torrent under the surface of a peaceful sea, slipped into her voice unnoticed. “I changed my mind. I would like to be alone now.”

“I’m afraid I can’t comply with your desires.” The impassive face of the Stranger, unfaced by the sudden tension, irritated her even more. “I don’t like prodding people over delicate problems but I consider it necessary to help you.” He adjusted his glasses. His eyes looked weary. “You may hate me for it; as I know I will.”

“I don’t need your help. I certainly didn’t ask for it.”

“Which appears to be the main issue. You never ask anyone for help; which is why you fled.” He sighed as if he already grew tired of the conversation he had begun. “You had a choice back there. Between disclosing and concealing. Unfortunately, you chose wrong.”

“Don’t presume to know me after just a few hours! I cle—”

“I know when a smile is meant to appease and when to deceive.”

Jester gasped audibly. “I’m fine,” she growled, on the verge of screaming. “I’m always fine!”

For a long time, nothing was being said. The soft breezes of the early spring were drowned out by the heavy breathing of Jester, who found herself being vexed with this man. It took a lot to get under her skin; it took even more to anger her. The Stranger managed to do both with but a few words. Jester wanted to run, escape to somewhere far away, but that would just prove his point. She had to stand her ground.

Finally, in the uncomfortable tension occupying the space between them, the Stranger stirred. Hope sparked in Jester’s heart as he propped himself up, but only briefly before she realized he wasn’t about to leave. All he had done was shift positions to face her directly. Jester was about to let another torrent of words loose when she noticed his expression: friendly, compassionate… and warm. Her head pulled back and at once, all her anger slipped off her.

“Nobody is fine all the time,” he said softly. “And you shouldn’t be either. Grant yourself some love by allowing yourself to be hurting.”

Like a warm knife through butter his words pierced all the walls she had put up and hit her right where she was most vulnerable. From one second to the next, hot tears were streaming down her face and she wept freely like she hadn’t wept in years. Jester buried her face in her hands in a fruitless attempt to hide her wretchedness, but the floodgates had been broken open and Jester feared the flow would not abate before her eyes were reddened and abused. 

Jester was unsure if she could be understood, but still, she spoke in between sobs, forcing out slurred words. “Why… did… you… do… this…?” The words “to me” were cut off as another wave of sadness tightened her throat.

“It is an effect of mine. Something I’m unable to control, let alone explain. I’m sorry.” The Stranger’s words were sincere, yet hardened, as if a part of him commiserated with her but he had seen the state she was in often enough to grow numb to it.

When Jester was able to look again without a blur filtering her vision, the pasture was doused in twilight. A blushed horizon, illuminated by the setting sun, was the first sight she laid eyes on. The next was the Stranger sitting next to her. Jester remembered no sound besides her own as she had given in to her sorrow; so how long had he been sitting there in silence, unmoving? Judging by the altitude of the sun… half an hour? More?

Without a word, the Stranger handed her a handkerchief. Jester could only imagine in what embarrassing state she was in; runny nose and puffy eyes wouldn’t give her a good look. She gladly accepted the handkerchief and dapped her eyes with it. To her surprise, did it not only soak away her tears but also rid her of any itching sensation. It was as if she had never cried at all. “You’ve came prepared, I see,” she said.

“After a good dozen times, you know what to expect.”

Jester propped herself up and composed herself as best she could. She shook her head violently. The blossoms which had fallen on her fell out of her hair and were carried away on lazy breezes. “How did you do this?” Jester asked. “It felt as though I had no control over my emotions.”

“It isn’t important now, is it? Important is that those emotions were honest and yours, yours only. Consider it a funnel which is released at the bottom; how much comes out relates to how much is stored up. In your case, it was a lot. As I was expecting.”

Jester smiled sadly. “Am I this transparent?” she said with a mirthless chuckle.

The stranger leaned closer. “You are too kind-hearted and honest for deceit. Take solace in that.” 

It was hard to take solace if all the voice speaking between the lines told her was that she simply wasn’t enough. All Jester wanted, when she was forced out of her home, was to see the world, but all the world did was to place mirrors in front of her, showing her where she was lacking.

And with each shortcoming, her smile became harder and harder to bear.

“Am I now free of them?” she asked looking up. Tears would form in her eyes had she any left to shed. “Those thoughts? Have you freed me of them?”

The stranger scowled into the distance, his eyes unable to meet hers. “No,” he said. “It behaves like burdens you were able to put down for a while — a brief respite if you will — but sooner rather than later you have to pick them up again and carry on. As long as those are burdens, they will weigh on you again.” 

This hit her harder than it should. Now that she was given the opportunity to rest, she never wanted to get back up again. The arm she had absentmindedly lifted to reach for something she couldn’t quite make out — perhaps it had been hope — dropped to her side.

“Do not despair. Not now. I’m here to help.” His eyes found hers again. In them, she saw kindness break through his stoic exterior. “You are someone who doesn’t only carry your own burdens but hefts those of others as well. A remarkable quality to possess, but also one that will wound you, should you not take care of yourself in the same way you take care of those around you." 

The words of the stranger hid a sentiment Jester didn’t want to hear. A truth she has refused to accept for so long, but now came to understand as reality. “I am broken,” she muttered. A single tear ran down her cheek. 

It was at this point that the stranger put his hand on hers. The gnarled fingers should’ve appalled her, but all she felt was the warmth of a heartfelt embrace. “Life breaks us all,” he said. “How we rebuild ourselves is what defines us.”

“Bu- Bu- But h—” Jester fell silent, as she felt her hand getting squeezed. 

“I feel your heart racing,” the Stranger said. “Don’t be afraid. Inhale; hold it; exhale; hold it. Come on do it with me. Inhale; hold it…”

Jester did as she was told, closing her eyes. Her blood was racing through her veins, brought about by her insecurities. Every time her heart jumped to her throat this way the urge to run away was oh so palpable. It lured her in like an old friend whos comforting embrace she desperately sought. He would assure her that it was okay to run. In her ear, he would whisper that it was the world that was in the wrong. It was the world that presented to her such disturbing revelations, each one slowly chipping away at her facade of mischief and joy. It had been the world that had made her earnest smile into a facade in the first place. The world was ruthless and had shown Jester no mercy, changing her forever.

A part of her believed his words; the other wanted to believe them. Time and time again she had run into his arms and listened to him speak. He seemed to provide the only place where she would feel safe. Never once had she challenged his views; too much comfort had his presence given to her vulnerable self.

But now Jester saw him for what he was. A presence when nobody was near. Constrained by cold irons in a dark cell where the world first had exposed its cruel visage. He had been there to see true fear settling down in her soul, and has walked her side ever since, filling the vacant space the Traveler left behind when he was absent.

He represented her shame. The shame she felt for what she hid away behind her smile.

Her heart ceased to pound between her ears. She had been continuing her breathing throughout her thought process, the soft words of the Stranger guiding her along. Positive, comforting energy in; negative, stressful energy out. Jester would have never believed it to work, but she was visibly calmer. It was almost strenuous to open her eyes again, but when she did a soft smile adorned her face as if she had just woken up from a restful sleep to a beautiful sight. 

Her eyes found the Stranger. “No more running,” she whispered.

The Stranger nodded in agreement. “Somebody who stared down a dragon should be more than capable to spit her fear in the face.”

Jester cocked an eyebrow but let the comment fly. Nothing would surprise her about the Stranger any longer. Even knowing more about her than he first let on. 

Birds chirped in the canopy above. Jester looked up and squinted to spot one of the busy little workers. Partially covered by the boughs it hopped from branch to branch. Its feathers were of browns and greys, a concentrated speck of red at its throat. The bird seemed to be looking for something, its head darting everywhere until his gaze focused in. His beak rushed down and when it came back up it was biting down on a twig. Content, it flew away.

“How do I go on?” Jester muttered under her breath. She let her head drop. Her neck was strained from looking up for too long. With one hand she began to massage it.

“By being honest,” the Stranger said bluntly. “Don’t look at me so indignantly. I don’t believe you to be a compulsive liar, but you were deceiving not only yourself but also those around you each time you said you were fine.”

Jester didn’t comment. 

“I know it is hard,” the Stranger said, lowering his voice to a soft whisper. “to open up. I won’t force you to, especially not to me. However,…” He chuckled and Jester suddenly dreaded what was coming her way. “I do have a suggestion if you wish. I believe you will find it much easier to profess your love than to share your sorrow...”

Suddenly, it dawned on her, hitting her as though an anvil had been dropped on her head. She shook her head vehemently.

The Stranger continued, unperturbed. “... and I saw you stealing looks wit—”

“It doesn’t matter!” Jester had found her voice, but her face was flushed with shame. “It’snotogintohappen, I’mnotgoingto, neverinamillionyears, nononononono. Not a _chance_ in the world that I woul— no,no,no,no.”

“It would go a long way towards making confiding come easier for you.” 

Her mouth stood open like a barn door, halfway between indignation and consternation. “You are dead serious with this, aren’t you?”

“Rejection is always a risk, but the positive effect it would have on your confidence, to know that the love you emit is reciprocated, is too high to pass on.”

Jester bit her lip, suddenly feeling very small. “But what if… my feelings… don’t get reciprocated?”

“They will.” When Jester gave him a quizzical look, the Stranger chuckled again. “You weren’t the only one of your party who was being transparent.

Her heart leaped. Could it be…? 

She shook her head in denial. The Stranger had never portrayed himself as an individual who handled the intimate complications of others with a sensitive touch, but even he should know what playing with one’s feelings would do to somebody… what it did to her. If he had actually internalized what he has been preaching, the issue behind the indelicate prodding, pushing her to do something she was extremely uncomfortable with, should be apparent. 

The notion of confiding in somebody troubled Jester greatly. The Traveler was the closest friend she had, yet he had been absent when she had been bound in chains. Since then he was less and less at her side. He has been assuring her that she was still his favorite, but Jester could tell when she was being avoided. Her friends simply didn’t like her when she didn’t make them laugh. When she ceased being happy they would leave her... and she would be lonely again; a notion that, even in thought, was unbearable.

“Jester!”

Jester stiffened. Her attention had slackened but the harsh words brought her back to reality. Was it the Stranger who had called her name? She had never heard that tone from him before.

“Your face is a mirror into your soul.” His voice was even, unaffected by his small outburst. “I saw your mind going down the trodden paths that lead to misery, a habit that won’t be fixed overnight.” The Stranger breathed a heavy sigh. “Your brain is entangled in unsupported assumptions and has no way to unravel itself, so it goes down those paths again and again. Pay it no heed. Listen to your heart, and go out there and give it a voice. Take the first step and discover your self-worth. Learn how others perceive you with their eyes and be surprised by the result. Today shall be your day.”

Conflicting emotions flooded her system. One part of her strained to move despite herself, spurred on by his words; but the other part held her in place. Something didn’t feel right, and she said as much out loud. “I’ve always felt I needed to wait. There… One day there would be the…” She fell silent.

“... the perfect moment?”

Jester nodded sheepishly, fingers fiddling behind her back.

The Stranger leaned back on his arms, his gaze fixed on the tree behind her. Jester wondered if he was watching the birds as she had. “The perfect moment doesn’t exist,” he said after being quiet for a while. “unless you create it for yourself. It is no stage destiny has forged or instance poets write about, only the second you take initiative and out of the vastness of time and space carve out a memory for yourself; one which you will never forget.” He looked at her. “You have the perfect moment at your fingertips, you just have to reach out and capture it.”

Jester climbed to her feet. Nervousness still played at the edges of her consciousness, but the confidence of the Stranger in her was contagious. Her doubts about the validity of his statements were not dispelled, but she was willing to see it for herself. With shaking knees and a pit in her stomach, but she will do it. “Do you have anything else to say to me?” Like a parting advice or encouragement, she added silently.

The Stranger merely looked at her and smiled. For the first time since they have met. “I’m happy for you,” he said. As if she had already brought him the good news.

Their eyes met, acknowledging silently everything they have talked about on this day. Then, Jester turned around and took the first step.

***

It was a small miracle that the pasture was still illuminated by the beauty of the twilight sun when Jester came back. It seemed as though an eternity had gone by in a blink of an eye, turning her world on its head. It was safe to say it changed her life and the Stranger had been right, she was better for it. Not in her deepest dreams would Jester have imagined that anybody would reciprocate her feelings, but here she was in the highest heights of ecstasy minutes after she was first kissed. It had been nowhere close to how her books had described it but one aspect they had gotten right; her heart did not stop jittering.

Not much would be able to ruin her perfect evening but she was still saddened to find the long shadows under the giant cherry tree empty. Jester anticipated the Stranger would be gone when she returned, she had just hoped he would’ve stuck around long enough for her to thank him. 

As she closed the distance, Jester began to make out a small anomaly protruding outward from the thick trunk. For most of the way, the play between light and dark made it difficult for her night vision to make out more details besides the shape. Only when she stepped under the canopy and her eyes were able to adjust did Jester finally make out what was waiting for her.

An enormous canvas, thirty by twenty-five inches if Jester had to guess, propped up against the foot of the tree. Roots of brilliant gold-framed it in its entirety, forming intricate patterns in each corner. At the bottom, countless cherry blossoms were scattered in a display of unbridled joy. Jester smiled as she picked one up and examined it closer. These weren’t of the usual white marbled with pink; they were pink through and through. 

Jester raised an eyebrow. How did he kn— She glanced to the side at her haversack and began to chuckle to herself. Of course, he knew her favorite color.

A note was stuck in the middle of the canvas. Jester picked it up and read:

_Dear Jester._

_When you left, I saw that you were worried that your moment wouldn’t meet your expectations. I had no doubts but it got me thinking about what you would find most pleasing upon your return. It was then when I had an epiphany._

_An artist is easy to please as a white sheet of paper presents endless possibilities. What’s special about this canvas, however, is that the paper will never age and the colors will never fade. Once a picture is drawn and the paint is dry, it will be immortalized._

_You can probably already guess where I’m going with this. This canvas I wish you fill with your moment. But don’t just depict what had happened, use colors and imagery that match the beauty of what had happened. The perfect moment is nothing but a creation, and I want you to use your boundless creativity to do it justice. Paint a picture that is deserving of your day.  
And of you._

_Don’t forget that life is nothing but a series of steps and it is on us to better ourselves with each one._

_I wish you all the best Jester. Keep moving forward._

_P.S. I took the liberty of already naming your painting. I’m not sorry._

Jester looked at the bottom right corner of the canvas and her smile widened. In beautifully embellished letters it spelled: 

The Perfect Moment  
_captured by Jester Lavorre_

**Author's Note:**

> If you step into somebody else’s character there is always the risk that you miss the mark and completely misrepresent.  
> This was my attempt in understanding Jester’s emotional turmoil, which we all know is there but I personally was never able to truly identify. Even after writing this I doubt I do.  
> Perhaps, I hit the nail on its head, or I uncovered just a part of the truth, or I completely failed my Insight Check. In the end, even I don’t know what of the aforementioned will turn out to be correct. I just hope that you will not get offended by my interpretation of a very complex problem lurking within a fabulous character and that until time will reveal the truth of the matter you will see this text simply for what is: fanfiction.  
> I have spent many hours writing this. Many different alterations have graced my paper, and with none of them, I was truly satisfied. One aspect always felt wrong and if I changed it something else wouldn’t fit any longer. This is the version I decided to post so I wouldn’t write myself ragged, trying to hit all the right notes but continuously failing to attain what I deemed worthy of Jester. I have overreached, but I needed to finish it so that I would get it out of my head. I hope, however, that I have been able to make you enjoy your stay.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has read until the very end.


End file.
